ARRIVALS
by PT21
Summary: Lothiriel is not only waiting on the birth of her firstborn son, but her beloved husband too. Is he going to make it in time?


Arrivals

by Caz

Disclaimer is on force, so leave me alone.

I'm not going to pretend that I know anything about the surrounding landscape of Edoras, so please ignore my ignorance. Hope you enjoy. I'm slapping an M rating on it as there is some decidedly personal issues covered in this tale.

Even though the vista before her was beautiful, Lothiriel's dark, troubled eyes swept over the far distant lands that spread out before her, lands that she had come to love. Even the banks surrounding her homeland, swollen with mounds of the long past kings taking eternal rest and now always covered with a blanket of the tiny white ulios flowers didn't draw her steadfast gaze away.

Her eyes searched for Eomer. Her husband. Her king. Her one love. But he wasn't there; she couldn't see him and it hurt her soul and her heart to think that he would not make it to her side in time for the birth of their firstborn son.

"My lady, please, rest yourself. He will come."

Lothiriel didn't break her gaze away from the outlying hills as she absently but confidently spoke to the worried woman beside her. "I know my husband will come, Ellenae. Our child will not be born until he is here, of that I am certain."

Hearing a skirmish down below in the village and the subsequent clatter of frightened, scampering hooves as the horses of the remaining Rohan Horselords shied away from the raised voices gave the queen an idea, it suddenly slipping into her mind chastising her idiocy as to why when had not had the thought long before.

Turning excited eyes to the fretting nursemaid beside her she whispered hastily, the request pouring from her lips. "Send a rider out, Ellenae. Tell him to make haste and bring my husband home in my hour of need."

Ellenae dropped back from Lothiriel's side and bobbed, her mind racing with the possibility of the idea being a success. It was as good a plan as any and her queen was barely hours from giving birth to their future king. Even she knew that if King Eomer had no need of haste to return to his homeland then he would not. It was indeed then, the best course to take. Her hastily whispered, "My lady." fell on deaf ears as Lothiriel turned her mind and her eyes back to her vigil.

Lothíriel began to breathe deeply as yet another contraction began to ripple through her abdomen. As her time lengthened, now, each one that come and passed was slightly stronger than the last. She could feel the heaviness in her lower regions where her son was preparing to make his entrance into the world and she felt her entire body begin to tremble with anticipation and fear.

Oh, to not be in Eomer's arms when their son finally came into the world sent cascades of terror through her. She could not - she would not, have her son without him by her side, even though the customs of old forbade the husband to be at his wife's bedside as she brought new life into the world. But Lothíriel was about to change that ancient rule. Eomer was going to be with her, whether he wanted to be or not.

Lothíriel's gaze broke briefly away from the distant hills as she watched the movement of man and horse take flight below her, carefully dodging bystander's in his haste to serve his king and queen. Sighing with relief as he passed through the great gates and head into the open grasslands, Lothíriel followed his path as far as she could before, he too, disappeared from view, taking the route along the Gap of Rohan, a huge gully that lay between the Misty and White Mountains, the same route that she knew her Eomer and his men had taken some five days before.

As yet another contraction began to take hold of her body Lothiriel forced her gaze away from the mountains, her eyes slipping shut as she clung to the window's ledge, bending over, hoping in vain to take away the growing ache within her womb and back as the pains grew stronger and closer still now miserably aware that her time was rapidly running out.

She felt a gentle hand touch the small of her back as Ellenae slipped back into the room and back to her side. Seeing her queen huddled over as she fought the agonies that took over her body almost constantly now brought a sheen of tears to her face. "My lady, please come to the bed and lay down." Ellenae implored. "You cannot remain on your feet. Think of the child, my queen."

"No! no," Lothíriel panted through the pain that assaulted her. "I can do this. I'm not ready to retire to my bed yet. I want to..." She gasped as a strange sensation flooded her entire being, culminating in a rush of warm liquid that poured from her limbs.

Stunned, both women looked down at her feet and at the puddle of water that lay there, each knowing what it meant; There was no going back now. Her son was going to be born, very, very soon. Lothíriel shook from head to toe, her face lighting up with nervous joy, her eyes filling with tears of wonder. "Oh, Ellenae, I wish Eomer were here to see this miracle."

Smiling with understanding, Ellenae brushed away a loosened tendril of Lothíriel's dark hair that had fallen forward. "If God wills, he will be here, My lady." Taking a deep breath Ellenae tried once more to persuade her mistress to retire to her bed in preparation for the birth, but Lothíriel wasn't having any of it. Far from it.

Laughing, Lothíriel stepped aside, letting Ellenae wipe the floor beneath her sodden feet with a piece of towelling put aside for the aftermath of the birth. "Ellenae, my dearest heart, I will not go to my bed until I can no longer stand. I want to see my husband race to my side, and I cannot see him whilst I am flat on my back writhing in discomfort, as I know I will be soon."

But her laughter cut short as another contraction pummelled her small frame. Now with her waters broken, they changed course; intensified, hurt more. Ellenae watched her mistress' face with horror as Lothíriel gasped, reaching out for her hand and squeezing it tight until the pain subsided.

"Oh, my Lord, El., how in all of Edoras am I going to survive this?" Shocked, wide eyes turned to her nursemaid before filling with tears of sorrow. "I need him here, Ellenae! I cannot do this without him at my side. I want Eomer home!" she cried as yet another contraction began to make itself known.

"Oh!" she choked. "Oh, Ellenae, another is coming. It's so soon!" Releasing Ellenae's hand, Lothíriel gripped the window ledge, her long nails digging into the hard wood, taking the brunt of her shock. As her eyes looked to the distant, shadowy hills in search of the one she sought, the wind caught her hair, billowing it out behind her, making her look like an apparition in white as her thin cotton nightgown flapped around her distended body.

"Eomer!" she cried with longing, blindly seeing nothing more than land but wanting to see the vision that clouded her mind and her heart. "EomeEEEEEEEr!"

"Oh, My Queen!" Ellenae consoled, her heart breaking at hearing her queen's distress, "I fear our master will not make it in time. Please let me take your sodden gown from you and help you onto the bed. I need to see if your child is coming now. Please, My lady." she pleaded once more.

Still seeing no sign of the returning horselords a saddened Lothíriel stepped back and allowed Ellenae to slip the gown over her head and replace it with another, but still she refused to lie down. Ellenae clucked with displeasure at her mistress' stubbornness, trying sarcasm to try and prompt her young mistress into doing what she bid..

"You'll be having that child where you stand, My lady, and then what will the King think of you when you drop his son onto the flet beneath your feet?" She chastised the younger woman remembering only too well her own experiences of childbirth many, many years before. Although in truth, she silently acknowledged, the position was as natural as can be. Animals had their young the same way with ease. But it was not done with humans, not any longer.

Until now it seemed, because the queen was determined to keep her vigil, come what may.

But when the next stomach-churning contraction hit the young queen, Ellenae revised her opinion, for it hit Lothíriel with such force that it brought the trembling woman to her knees, such was its power. Ellenae's heart broke again as she watched tears of frustration, pain and fear course down Lothíriel's alabaster cheeks.

"It is time, My lady." She told her sharply, hoping to inflict enough command into her pure and simple statement for the queen to acknowledge without argument. But Lothíriel still resisted.

"It is most certainly not!" She stated with venom. "This child will not be born without it's father present." Pushing herself unsteadily back onto her feet, she gripped the window ledge with renewed vigour. "Go now, to the Hall of Healing and find a potion to cease this infernal agony."

Ellenae stepped back with shock. Rohan's Hall of Healing was by no means the grand affair that resided in Minas Tirith. Nor did it have its fine physicians, or the special gift that bestowed it's king, Elessar. What her queen wanted was completely unacceptable and impossible. No such medicine existed. No woman had requested such a thing. The pain of child-birth was a given thing; Something that one simply endured for it did not usually last long and was soon forgotten once the long awaited for child was born.

But Ellenae also sensed that her mistress needed some time alone, even though it completely went against her nature to leave her. But still, once she stepped through the bed chamber door, the queen would be non-the-wiser as to her whereabouts. A falsehood was to be the order of the day and God forbid if the queen ever found her out for Ellenae could not ask for something that did not exist.

"As you wish, My lady." Bowing at the waist Ellenae backed away and headed for the door. Once through it she closed it quietly and stood silently by, listening and waiting, gauging how long it would take for her hurried feet to reach the small healing house and then finding the medicine man and locating the much needed magical potion that would soothe her mistress' pains, and then return to her side.

Left alone with her thoughts at last, Lothíriel let the tears that threatened to be her complete undoing fall in earnest. Never did she need Eomer at her side more. It ate away at her soul and hurt her heart with the knowledge that he may not make it to the birth of their child, for the contractions that came sporadically now assaulted her slender body almost non-stop, along side a new sensation that had turned her legs to jelly.

She could feel her son's decent as he made his way through her unbearably tight channel. Gripping the window ledge still, Lothíriel placed her feet apart, allowing, she knew, his head to make it's way further down the birth canal. Lothíriel knew it would not be long now. Her body and her heart told her so.

"Just a little more time, my love. I just need more time." She pleaded unsteadily to her unborn child and to the darkening sky that spread out before her beyond the open window dreading the fall of night that was so near, diminishing the long-awaited sight of her husband's home-coming. But when she heard the tell-tale sound of the door opening and closing behind her knowing that, once more, her maiden was about to insist that she retire to her bed, Lothíriel groaned to the heavens above before staring out once more to the far hills in her valiant search for the very recognizable banner that sported the white horse on a green background and the distant thunder of hooves that told her that the Horse Lords of Rohan were returning home.

Lothíriel felt hands slip around her from behind, thinking it was Ellenae, her nurse-maid and friend, feeling for where her child now lie within her, knowing herself how her shape had changed over the past hour or so. The feeling brought instant tears to her eyes to know that her beloved husband was not going to make it in time.

Needing the comfort of the older woman, Lothíriel slipped her own trembling fingers atop of those that settled upon her taut mound. But before she even touched them, she come to realize that the strange smell that now surrounded her and the unmistakable hardness of metal that lightly touched her back, and then the light breath that whispered across the top of her hair told her that it was not Ellenae that held her close.

"Eomer!?" she murmured with wonder and relief as she slipped her hands atop of his, now knowing that the large hair-roughened hands that splayed her belly could never have belonged to a woman. "My love!" she cried, one hand snaking up to cradle his jaw as she turned her face and met his lips as he bent his smiling face down to capture her mouth against his own.

Eomer, King of the Rohan realm sighed with deep rooted pleasure as he cradled his wife's swollen body against his, instantly feeling the battle that went on beneath his fingertips, marvelling at the strength of not only his unborn son, but his wife's, too as she waited for both their arrivals. Unable to stop himself from going to her side as soon as he stepped silently through the door, drawn to her by the sadness that prevailed her entire being as she searched for him and desperately needing to hold her in his arms, Eomer went to her. Even though he was more than aware that he smelt of horse and the sweat and grime several long days past vanished for a moment as desperation overcome him as the need to be of comfort to his beloved moved his feet towards her.

Gratefully accepting the kiss that she bestowed upon him, Eomer murmured against her mouth as he sipped her lips, unable to break away. "I have missed you so, Lothíriel. My thoughts have been saddened by the loss of your presence these past long days and nights." But then sense stepped in and he forcibly pulled away from her longing arms, but still managed to link his fingers with hers, that final break harder than he ever thought possible. "Lotti, I must let you go for just a little while longer while I wash the stench of travel away. I must address my demeanour for I am not worthy of your touch, my love."

Eomer felt the full force of his wife's condition as she swung around and clung to him. "No! Do not leave me, My King. I cannot hold onto the child within me any longer. I need you here!" She cried against his throat passionately.

Disentangling her from his grubby uniform Eomer tried to soothe her with common sense as he held her at arms length so that he could look into her teary eyes and show her the truth of his words and his grimy appearance. "Lotti, my dearest, by the time I have washed the grime from my body and redressed our son will be born and I will be at your side then. Do not fear so."

Lothíriel's eyes widened as she realized his intent and meaning. Her husband meant to follow tradition and not be by her side for the birth of their firstborn, but that was not what she wanted. "No, My King, you cannot leave me now. I want you to witness our son's arrival. You cannot leave my side."

Unprepared for her unorthodox request, Eomer first looked shocked and then horrified at the thought of seeing a sight that a man should never see, but at the very first sight of his wife's tears and the onset of yet another contraction that had her buckling at the knees, he relented. Even though Lothiriel gripped his forearms as though she was never going to let go, Eomer saw the terrors that ran amok within her mind. Swallowing his fears he silently vowed to be by her side, despite the ribalding that he knew would follow from his fellow Rohirrim.

Decision made Eomer soothed his wife's fears. "Let me clean up, my love, and then I will take my place at your side. We will see our son greet the world together." But once Eomer had said the words aloud he felt changed. Suddenly eager to see what no man had ever seen before, he swiftly kissed his startled wife's tear-stained cheek and hurried away, his voice drifting away as he promised to be as quick as he could.

The woman that stood quietly in the wings waiting for the touching reunion to end now come to take the place of the man. Now with a tender smile upon her craggy face, Ellenae said gently, but not without irony, to her mistress, "Now will you go to your bed, my queen?"

Grasping her stomach as another contraction rolled over her Lothíriel grimaced and muttered through her panting, "Aye, I think it is time."

Reaching the bed's edge Lothíriel crawled onto it's softness on all fours, just managing to turn over as she collapsed in it's centre as the pains took hold making her squirm and writhe against the soft sheeting. Hours before Ellenae had prepared the bed for the coming birth. Lothíriel eyed the mound of towelling uneasily, daring her mind to wonder at their role in the birth now that her waters had already broken.

Ellenae fussed around her, tying her hair back away from her face. Summoning fresh warmed water from the servants that hung close to the doorway in preparation for the child's arrival, Ellenae fussed around her young queen. But Lothíriel was beyond caring of what was happening around her as yet another searing pain tortured her body, emitting a keening wail from deep inside.

Having washed the worst of the grime away and removed his bulky armour, Eomer hurried back to his wife's side. Looking decidedly handsome, now he'd washed and combed his long hair and dressed in only soft, clean breeches and a cotton shirt which he hastily pushed to his elbows, his feet bare, he looked to Lothíriel's maid for guidance. "What should I do?" He asked, nervously.

Resigned to the fact that her mistress had won against tradition, Ellenae pushed her own sleeves up to her elbows and said, her displeasure clear in her taut words. "Well, if the queen requires you to be at her side, regardless of tradition, then so be it. We need to rid her of her gown, less she ruin it beyond saving and then..." She sighed, inwardly cringing and shuddering at what the young king was about to endure, and see. "...and then, we'll see."

Seeing her husband back at her side had sent a calming force over Lothíriel. Now prepared for whatever her body showed him she reached out and grasped his large hand within hers. Instinctively, Eomer knelt down onto the bed's edge and pulled the proffered hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. "How can I help you, my love?" He asked her, but not without trepidation.

As yet another contraction built, Lothíriel moaned and whispered, "Just be with me, my husband, that is all I ask of you."

Moving his remaining hand to the hard mound of her now very distorted belly, Eomer said huskily, "I will always be with you, Lotti, no matter what."

Feeling the baby within her move down further, seemingly intruding an area that she least expected, Lothíriel emitted a gasp of disbelief and terror. "Oh, Ellenae, what is happening to me!?" She cried.

With a satisfied grin, Ellenae positioned herself at the foot of the bed and touched her mistress' knees, urging her to lift them higher. "At long last," she crooned, "your son is begging to come out, and now your beloved is at your side, you are free to let him come. Now, child, I need to check you. Please," She added when both mother and expectant father turned crimson with her words. "Don't be abashed, my lord, it is but nature that is at work here and not the devil. I merely wish to see how far your son and heir has made his way to our world."

Unable to watch Ellenae's intimate task, Lothíriel pulled her face against Eomer's neck, circling his blonde head with her arms, forcing him down to hide his face away from the scene below. Eomer needed no encouragement. It was a sacred and highly personal moment between mother and nursemaid and he had no wish to witness such blatant perusal. Moving his face around to hers, he kissed her lightly, feeling her lips tremble along with his own.

They both started when Ellenae clapped with glee barely a few moments later. "Ah, yes, I see the crown of his head. It will not be long now, My Lady." Fussing around her now that it was obvious that things were about to happen, quickly, Ellenae checked that she had everything she needed close to hand. Eomer could do nothing more than comfort his wife as yet another earth-shattering contraction ripped through her tiring body, guilt ransacking his body and mind with what he had thrusted upon her in his desire for an heir.

But moments later all was forgotten as even he, a man who nothing about the workings of a woman's body knew that something more was happening when Lothíriel suddenly shifted, her strangled gasp of, "Oh Eli, I need to push!" had Eomer looking to the woman at his wife's feet with trepidation.

"Lord Eomer, sit behind and guide her into your arms to help her bear down." Seeing his stunned look at her strange request, she quickly added, "You wanted to be a part of this birth, this is the best way to help your wife. Now please, she hasn't got much more to do. Please."

Feeling completely out of his depth, nervously Eomer shifted his large bulk and adjusted his wife so that he could slide in behind her. Settling her between his large thighs, her back against his chest, he took her restless hands, kissed the top of her now damp hair and prepared himself for whatever lie ahead.

For another half hour or so Lothíriel strained against her body with all her might as she tried to push out the baby boy within her, but her small frame, her fear of the unknown and the not-so-small being inside had other ideas. Eomer could only look on in anguish as he watched his wife struggle to give birth to their firstborn son.

Ellenae's voice broke him out of his musings. "My Lord, please, come help me." Catching her drift as she pushed Lothíriel's legs higher, Eomer reached over and slipped his hands beneath her thighs. It was an ungainly sight, but a necessary one. The flash of silver brought a gasp from both his and Lothíriel's mouths as a small, deadly looking blade appeared in Ellenae's hand. She was going to cut her.

Ellenae caught his gaze. "Just a little nick, Sire. The baby's head is big and your wife is small. It will heal." She added confidently, and a moment later, Lothíriel felt the enormous pressure that had been causing her the most pain, lessen somewhat after the initial stinging sensation of the blade cutting through her sensitive skin. Now with the added room, Lothíriel began to push, determination etching her exhausted features. Eomer, seeing that the cutting position seemed to be of benefit, held on his wife's legs and watched in awe as he saw the first sighting of his son's golden head.

Beaming from ear to ear, Ellenae beckoned the king to her side with her hands and excited words. "Come, M'lord, come and see your son take his first breath."

Swallowing nervously, Eomer gently disentangled himself from Lothíriel's arms and stood nervously by the nursemaids side. Seeing the head sticking out from his wife's private regions was somewhat unnerving, but before he could think of it in any other way, Ellenae was kneeling back between the bed prone woman's knees and addressed the heavily panting woman before her. "Now, Lotti, just one more push in a moment. One good push and your son will be with us all."

Eomer, fascinated with what he was seeing, edged forward. Unable to deny him the joy of aiding in his son's birth, Ellenae urged him forward. "Come, My lord, help me."

Gently taking his huge hand within hers she guided it to the baby's head. "Hold it firm while I turn the baby around." Eomer cringed as he watched Ellenae use her fingers to dig beneath his wife's stretched skin and search for, he presumed, the life-giving cord that nourished the child. He'd seen enough horses foaling to know that the cord being around the neck of it's infant was dangerous.

Happy knowing that the child's neck was free, Ellenae encouraged the exhausted woman to complete her arduous task. "Push now, Lotti, come on. It is time to show us our new prince."

Pushing herself wearily up onto her elbows, Lothíriel screwed up her beautiful face, took a deep breath and let it go with a long keening wail as she finally and miraculously pushed her baby's body out into it's fathers waiting hands.

Stunned beyond belief, Eomer crouched by her side, nervously holding the squealling, sticky, moist infant within his two shaking hands. Barely noticing that Ellenae was busy tying off the cord and cutting it with the same knife that she had used previously, Eomer, King of Rohan, Lord of the Riddermark could not stop the stream of tears that coursed down his ruddy face as he stared at his son in awe and disbelief.

Lothíriel reached out her trembling fingers, aching to have her son in her arms. Carefully, Eomer handed over the precious bundle and watched as the new mother instinctively placed the infant at her breast. The nipple, impossibly large against the boys searching lips seemed to fill his entire mouth, but he soon latched on and suckled noisily.

Stroking the infant's soft cheek with the back of his finger, Eomer stared transfixed at his son as he nursed. Grinning sheepishly, he turned his face to his wife's. "Lotti, I will be eternally grateful that you defied the Gods and let me see this miracle happen for us. Thank you, my one love."

With a contentment that she wasn't sure from where it came, Lothíriel slumped her head back against the pillow and gratefully took the kiss that her husband lovingly gave her. Smiling as she looked deep into his green eyes, she whispered, "Thank you, my love, for being with me."

Glancing down at his new son as he nursed, he murmured, "Welcome to our world, Elfwine the Fair, new Prince of Rohan. My son."

"Our son." His wife teasingly reminded him.

Eomer grinned. "Our son, my love."


End file.
